Old ties
by Elfsire
Summary: A Sarmatian girl born and raised in Britain. Her ties to the knights, and how they help her through the hardest times of her life. Sorry if this summary is bad. Rating to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I only own Bedwyr, Sebille and their daughter Celene.

Chapter 1

When the young knights first arrive in Britain.

The boys were all tired, hungry and saddle-sore from their trip from Sarmatia. How they had been picked to end up in this country, where so far the weather had been less than impressive, escaped them. Looking down a hill they saw a group of women washing clothes. There was a boy of about their age talking to one of them, and a girl was up to her elbows in water, helping with the washing. Eventually she helped her mother to gather her things and walk off.

The boys all ended up at the fort, where they were left to stand around waiting. After a while, all the existing knights came and inspected the boys, most of them joking around with each other. It was all a little overwhelming; a fact one girl was rather too willing to notice. She walked into the area and stood regarding the boys for a while.

"Father they're not cattle to be looked at and picked over by you." She declared.

"Bedwyr, when did your daughter grow up?" One of the knights asked.

"Perceval, you should know by now that Celene has old head on young shoulders." Bedwyr ruffled his daughter's hair fondly.

"These must be the new recruits." Celene's mother came in.

"Ah, Sebille, fair morning star." Perceval declared dramatically.

"Watch your tongue, or I cut it out." Sebille declared fiercely.

"I hope your daughter isn't as fiery as you." Perceval declared, ruffling Celene's hair.

"Who said I wasn't?" Celene asked in answer, snapping her teeth a few inches from Perceval's hand.

In answer the knights, Sebille being one of them, started discussing Celene when she was younger. They also went on to discuss how well Celene was doing in training, swordplay, bowman ship, and throwing balanced daggers. After a while Celene grew bored of all of this and walked off to examine the boys. She introduced herself to all of them, as well as pointing out all the knights for them. She gave them all a brief run down on each, before she was called away by her mother.

Celene turned and waved before running off to go home with her mother, seemingly unencumbered by the dress she was wearing. Her thick brown hair flew out behind her as she ran. At thirteen she was showing well the promise of the beauty that she would be. She had her father's hair teamed with her mother's slate green eyes, a combination which was striking on anyone. She already had well formed curves, and a clear creamy complexion. She was seemingly unaware of her beauty, and remarks were only a passing thing to her.

The next day saw the new recruits grumbling about having to learn things like sewing and healing along with their weaponry and amour making. They had healing in the morning and then training in the afternoon. Celene quietly tiptoed up and slipped inside the group of boys. Clutched to her chest was a ream of papers. She ended up walking with Tristan, a quiet boy who had said very little. Sebille came out to greet the boys and they all slipped inside the room, sitting down at the front in the long table and bench. At the front there were drawings of all the different plants.

Celene slipped into the bench on the back row. There were three rows of long tables with benches to go alongside them. Most of the time there were enough boys to fill the benches, but now there were only enough to fill two rows. Not even half of these would probably serve their full fifteen years. She knew all about that, her father a knight, her mother his sweetheart who refused to be left behind when he left for his service. Her father had been lucky; he had been slightly older when the Romans had come around. It looked like there were two others who were like her father.

She paid little attention to her mother talking to the knights about the herbs; she had heard it all before. Instead she spread her sheets out around her, and examined them. After a while she seemed happy and placed them all back in order. Next she walked through to a different room, the infirmary. Once there she walked over to a cabinet, where she checked the supplies of herbs. When she was happy that all was to her satisfaction she walked back through to the classroom, where her mother was telling the knights that they were now to go out and find the herbs, and come back with what they find.

All the knights soon left, apart from one of the older ones, Dagonet Celene remembered. She smiled at him as she perched on the end of the bench. She had collected her papers off the side of the desk and placed them before her mother carefully. Her mother rifled through them before smiling, pleased.

"I think they're ready to be bound." Sebille smiled at her daughter.

"No it isn't, I haven't even said how to sew or cauterize a wound, or what to do if someone has a cold, and then I have to add the symptoms of illnesses, what they mean, and how to treat it…" Celene counted off.

"That would cost a lot of money to bind." Sebille laughed, "The herbs are all I need for now. I need you to write up about illnesses, their symptoms, how to treat them, and if you have to, how to alleviate the persons suffering until they die."

"Shall I get on with that now?" Celene asked.

"No, you have to show Dagonet where to get the herbs from in the infirmary, and then you can show him the compendiums we have." Sebille ordered.

"Yes ma, if you want to come this way." Celene smiled politely to Dagonet.

The next few hours were spent in the infirmary. Celene learnt about Dagonet, and she about him. They were soon good friends, well as good friends as an eighteen year old and a thirteen year old could be. Celene was actually able to teach Dagonet how to prepare salves and many other useful things with herbs, while he was able to teach her a few of the less technical names for the herbs. It was a nice morning. Afterwards the young knights all came in, clamouring for their lunch. It seemed most had either not tried, or had honestly made mistakes, and Celene and Sebille had more than a few people to treat with dock leaves.

Celene spent the rest of the day with the new knights, them getting to know her as her mother and father's daughter. She trained with them in the afternoon and arrived back at her family's quarters, hot sweaty and in need of a good bath. After that she was given some warm broth and sent off to bed, as she had to be up early to collect some foxgloves to protect small children from picking them.

Author's note: Please do tell what you think. It was just a random idea that popped into my head. So here we are, enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: As before

Chapter 2

Five years into the knight's service.

Celene walked along, her head down. Clasped to her breast were some more sheets, which had to be checked by her mother before she took them to be bound. This was her final book, or the final one which her mother said she would ask of her. But Celene wanted to carry on, perhaps experimenting with different herbs.

Celene was starting to get worried by her mother. Sebille was starting to look pale and drawn, even Bedwyr, had begun to notice. It was worrying everyone, and Celene had finally decided to take action. Once she had given the sheets to her mother she was going to go back to her rooms and then she was going to do some research. She thought she knew what the problem was, but she needed real proof, and she still had to hope that it wasn't happening.

A few minutes later Celene made her way out of her mother's house, the proof in her pocket. When she had turned fifteen she moved into a small room next to the infirmary, to be on hand at any time of the day or night. She occasionally went with the knights on their missions. It gave her a sense of being wanted. Celene felt slightly chilled at her almost discovery. She also felt slightly vulnerable without her papers or a book to hug to her. She was aware of the Roman's eyes on her, eyeing her up as if she was a piece of meat. It chilled her slightly, and she involuntarily shivered with revulsion.

Walking past the knights training area she was rewarded with her friend's and her father, and his friends, all mucking around. There was Tristan out at the bow fields, and everyone else was mucking around with swords or various weapons. She was hailed by Lancelot, and she stopped and rested her arms, crossed on a wooden fence. The other side was a large square covered with sand, to absorb any blood. Celene flicked it all over with a glance, as the younger knights all seemed to cluster around her. Arthur was now leader, well the younger Arthur anyway, and he had been asking a lot of advice off Bedwyr and Perceval.

"Celene." Lancelot called.

"Sorry I was…umm…distracted." Celene apologized.

"We can guess that." Galahad, the youngest piped up.

"What's wrong?" Gawain asked.

"I'm sorry, I don't have much time, I have to check something, and then run some chores." Celene excused herself.

Celene found that cursing herself didn't really help all that much. She knew she had to confirm he suspicions, she couldn't not. But did she really have to brush off the men, who had only meant to help? She didn't know how much she had just worried them. She was almost always ready with her wit to confuse and tease the knights with. Today she hadn't, and that had worried them, almost a lot. She loved the knights like brothers; they had been almost since they had come.

Reaching her room Celene pulled open her door. It was a small rectangle with a window that let in the daylight. There was a camp bed wedged into the corner, with a straw palette to make it more comfortable. A small dressing table held a jug of water and a shallow dish, along with a linen cloth. There was also a crude stool and table with a small oil lamp on it, which served as a writing desk. Quill and ink lay on the desk, along with neat stacks of paper. A small alcove held all her dresses, and a trunk which held the rest. Finally there was a shelf of books, some which she herself had written, and the rest that her mother had written. Finally there was a bolt on the door.

Throwing the door shut behind her Celene pulled down one of the books off her shelves. She slipped into her chair and began flipping through the pages. She stopped when she had found what she was looking for and began to read it. Coughing excessively, incredibly pale, and in the later stages coughing up blood. The symptoms were all down there, written in Celene's precise hand. She stood up, before walking through to the infirmary. She took a small purse, attached it to her belt and filled it with herbs.

Walking back to her mother's house Celene was filled with worry. Who was going to tell her father? She knew he wouldn't take it very well, he loved his wife dearly. It was going to be hard on both father and child. The best anyone could do was prolong Sebille's life, and reduce her pain. That really was down to Sebille herself. If she wanted she could kill herself now and save herself all the pain. Or she could stay alive for as long as was possible, and still die. Whichever way there was death at the end.

"Come in." Sebille called when Celene knocked.

"These are for you." Celene chucked the purse on the table.

"Thank you…" Sebille began, but trailed off when she saw the contents.

"When were you planning on telling us?" Celene asked gently.

"I don't know. I was rather hoping you'd work it out." Sebille began.

"You know you have to tell father, and Arthur." Celene prompted.

"Can't you tell them?" Sebille almost begged.

"I can't it's not my place." Celene apologized.

"I'm scared." Sebille started to cry.

"I'll go get father, you can discuss what you want to do, then you can tell Arthur." Celene stood.

"I think that would be best yes." Sebille nodded.

Celene walked out again, back to the practice arena. She saw some still sparring, like her father and Lancelot and Perceval and Tristan. The others sat meticulously cleaning their weapons. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, probably being briefed by someone or other. There were now a few Romans sitting around and laughing at the knights. Celene walked straight into the training arena and tried to ignore the wolf whistles she was getting from the Romans.

When they didn't stop she calmly bent down and slipped her hand inside her stocking before pulling out a knife. She gently flipped the knife until it buried itself in the wood in between one of the Roman's legs. He jumped up outraged, about to say something, but his companions muttered to him, before one tossed the knife back. Celene walked across and took the knife off Gawain, who the knife had been thrown at. She smiled her thanks before she resettled the knife in her garter. Her father then came over and hugged her, as did all the other knights.

"Celene, fair morning star." Lancelot said, whilst swinging her around.

"Getting your lines off Perceval?" Celene asked sweetly.

"That one caught you out." Bedwyr laughed.

"Mother wants to speak to you." Celene turned to her father.

"That sounds dangerous." Perceval joked.

"Shut your bloody mouth." Bedwyr called, sensing the mood of his daughter.

Bedwyr soon left, and Celene found herself starting to get more than a little worried. She had begun pacing, as was her want when she was nervous, and the knights were beginning to notice. To tell the truth they had noticed that she had been on edge all day; her happiness had really been an act. After a while she went as if she were going somewhere, and then decided against it, sitting down on one of the benches. Soon enough though found her pacing up and down again.

After a while Bedwyr came in and had a few hushed words with Arthur, who walked off. Bedwyr then came and whispered a few words to Celene, who nodded. The knights all knew that it was probably something to do with Sebille, although not one of them could ever have thought how serious it really was. Soon Arthur came in, and his face was grave. He drew Celene and Bedwyr into a conversation, before he returned and stood in front of the knights.

"Knight's, I have news…" Arthur began

"Not another mission." Groaned Lancelot.

"Not yet, but there is a more pressing matter. It's to do with Sebille." Arthur began, "As you all know, our healer passed on her duties a few months ago to her daughter, after what she called a cold. She knew better though, and there is a reason why she has been so ill these last few weeks. She's dying." Arthur finally managed to say.

All the knights looked shocked at this revelation. Celene found herself trying to slip quietly away, unnoticed, to go back to the infirmary and look after some thing or another that obviously needed looking after. She found herself not thinking about her mother, and thinking on other things. She knew she cared which was why she was so reluctant to think about it. She had always lived in a happy family with her mother and father, and she had seen no end to that. Not even now. She found her mind drifting away to her tenth birthday…

Flashback

"Mama! Mama! Look what papa gave me for my birthday!" Celene pulled her mother towards the stable.

In the stall stood a short black pony. He had a long black mane and tail, and his mane hung over his face, obscuring one eye. The other was shown to be a deep chocolate brown. His forelegs had a covering of long black hair that hung to the ground. A white blaze went down the middle of his forehead.

"Isn't he a darling?" Celene asked.

"Yes he is, and your other present is the tack for him." Sebille steered Celene to the tack.

"I think I'll call him Sweetie." Celene decided after glancing over the tack.

End flashback

As she finished mulling over everything she found herself back at the infirmary. She found herself looking around and taking stock, just as her mother had taught her to do. She noticed that a few of the straw mattresses were missing some stuffing, so she knew she had to get them sorted out. Next she walked to the stock cupboard and saw that it was well filled. She knew the whole room was in need of a scrub down. Otherwise everything was fine. She would be doing the cleaning tomorrow, which would give her a chance to get everything she needed, and discuss her ideas with the various people.

In the end arranging everything took her the rest of the day. She managed to grab a bite to eat before she went back to her room. Pulling her stool across to her vanity Celene let her hair out from the plait she had it in. Carefully she brushed it out and luxuriated in the feel of it. Next she unlaced her dress and carefully hung it up in her wardrobe of sorts. Carefully now she unlaced her under dress before slipping into her nightdress.

Waking up the next day Celene immediately jumped into action. Jumping up she splashed her face with the cold water on her vanity. Next she pulled on a simple under dress, before pulling over it a simple green dress with a simple plaited leather girdle to go around her waist. Again she brushed out her waist length hair and pulled it back into a bun, easily securing it with a few pins. Peeking out the door she saw all the supplies she had asked for in the morning, apart from the straw, she would be taking the palates to be re-stuffed herself. Finally came some stockings and slippers.

She stopped off in the kitchen to get the warm water she had asked for. She stood for a while, digesting a piece of bread and chatting to the maids. Once her water was ready she thanked the maids and lugged them back to the infirmary herself. Once there she saw the palates had already been taken by Jols, and he had also been kind enough to fold up the cabin beds.

Smiling to herself she got down to work swabbing the floors liberally. Once she had done that she left them to dry for a half hour. Once they were dry she spent a lot more time on the walls, picking out the white colour that had been so lovingly painted. Once she had done that she looked up and saw it was midday. Knowing that she wasn't hungry yet she decided to start getting the cabin beds in and cleaning the frames of them. This was how the knights found her when they all went to troop through to get their lunch.

"If you have muddy boots go another way, I've just cleaned this floor." Celene said without looking up.

"I thought we could persuade you to drop the work." Gawain smiled from the doorway.

"Not a chance, I still have all these beds to clean." Celene was still scrubbing.

"Well you're coming to Gawain's party aren't you?" Galahad asked after the others had left.

"Course I am wouldn't miss it for the world." Celene smiled up at the boy.

"Good now come and have some lunch with him." Galahad demanded, dragging her away from her work.

"Look if you want me to come to the party…" Celene began.

"Lunch will not kill you." Lancelot looked back.

"Fine, fine, but don't blame me when I'm late." Celene conceded.

"You're one minute late we're coming to find you." Lancelot smiled disarmingly.

Celene smiled and joined in the friendly banter that was traded. They all reached the kitchens and she grabbed a piece of bread before sitting down next to Tristan. The knights had all loaded plates with different foods. Celene knew about the eating habits of knights from her father. They ate as much good food as they could when they could get it; they had enough of eating frugally bad food when they were on missions. Celene shook her head at pleadings from others that she eat more; she said she was fine as she was. She always had only a light snack or nothing at all at midday, while she tended to eat her larger meals in the evening. This tended to help save on rations, as most servants and people in the fort ate like this, there was plenty of food for all that way.

After she had finished Celene got up and walked back to the infirmary, which was now shimmering in the unusual late afternoon sun. The knights soon came around on the pretence of needing some herb or other, but as Celene saw right through their plans of stopping her from working, she made them work. They all grumbled for a while but soon got down to work. All except from Gawain, who Celene excused on account of it being his birthday.

The afternoon soon passed, and found all the work done. When she had finished all her work she turned to see her mother. Sebille said that she had come to return the pages her daughter had taken to her. Celene eyed the pages as another job to do tomorrow, until Tristan took them and walked off. Once all the knights had left to get on with their various tasks Sebille smiled and left for her home, with promises of seeing her daughter that evening.

Celene decided to get on with getting ready for the party. She knew that it would be at Vanora's. She had just had Bors' first child and was still trying to persuade him to marry her. Anyway, Bors was stubbornly refusing, saying he didn't want to leave her a widow if he died. Celene had to shake her head and laugh. She knew that if Vanora wanted to be married then she was going to have to wait a good few years. Though it really was none of her business.

As she pulled her hair out of her plait she found tears gathering in her eyes. She hadn't forgotten the fact that her mother was dying, just had pushed it to the back of her mind while she worked. She quickly wiped the tears away from her face; it wasn't her place to be sad today. She was normally smiling and happy. It seemed there was not much for her to smile about now though. She realized she hadn't lost her mother or her father yet though, and she was determined to smile while she could. There were going to be hard times to come, she would deal with them as they came.

With those melancholy thoughts in her head she began brushing her hair. Soon the repetitive, mechanical movements soothed her. She soon found herself humming a tune her mother used to sing to her when she was a young girl. It soothed her even more. Eventually Celene laid down the hairbrush and began unlacing her dress. When she was standing only in her slip she walked over to her alcove and pulled back her curtain.

Choosing her dress Celene slipped it over her head. She observed herself in the mirror. The green dress was set off by her eyes, and her hair blended in well with it. The cut was low enough to show some skin, but not too low. It had a silver girdle around the waist and the flared sleeves were hugged to her elbows with silver cords. Finally came some forest green stockings and slippers to mach her dress before she walked over and sat at her vanity again.

Then she pulled back her hair into a bun and pushed in two long clips to keep it in place. They were like wooden knives. The ends which showed were covered in green silk and had silver chains hanging down with emeralds hanging on the ends of the chain. Then taking one last look at herself she walked to the door and pulled it open.

Author's notes: Sorry it's been so long folks. I hope you like this. I know this may not seem like me, but I am stuck on most of my stories. I know roughly the direction they're going in, but I need some help with the details. Any help would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As before.

Chapter 3

Opening the door she came face to face with Lancelot, who looked for all the world as if he was just about to knock. Celene just smiled at her friend and took his arm as he offered it to her. Lancelot had grown taller since he had come to Britain five years ago. His black hair had acquired a definite curl. Celene was left wondering what it was, as Galahad's hair was also black and had a definite curl. Many people made the mistake of saying that the two were brothers. That was soon sorted out.

"You look nice." Lancelot said, smiling down at Celene.

"Thank you, kind sir knight." Celene joked.

The two carried on with their friendly banter as they walked down to the tavern. As they arrived they were hailed by everyone. Lancelot immediately sauntered off to the bar to get a glass of wine, and to stand with the older knights. Celene walked over and joined her mother, who was watching a knife throwing contest between Tristan, Galahad and Gawain. When they saw her Galahad came over and smiled sweetly.

"Do you want a go?" He asked Celene.

"I would love a go, but I left my knife behind." Celene apologized.

"She only just got here, leave her be." Gawain smiled.

"I haven't even had a drink yet!" Celene exclaimed good naturedly.

"Well that can soon be sorted out." Galahad came back with two cups of wine.

"You are too kind sir knight." Celene accepted the wine before taking a sip.

"He only got you one, because he wanted one himself." Lancelot sauntered over.

"Celene, the most beautiful woman on the earth." Percival sauntered over.

"Hello uncle." Celene stood and kissed Percival on the cheek.

"That's put you in your place." Bedwyr came up and smiled at Celene.

"Father." Celene smiled kissing her father, "How many cups of wine had Perceval had?" she asked.

"Only five." Perceval counted.

"And five beers." Bedwyr added.

"Oh right, that would explain it." Celene smiled.

The next few hours were spent in friendly banter between everyone. There was a lot of wine drunk, but those who were drunk were good natured for it. Everyone soon forgot about the revelation of the day before. The only sign of it was the paleness of Sebille, and the way she drank very little, and had frequent coughing fits. After a particularly bad one, Celene slipped her mother some wine with some herbs to stop the coughing. Sebille weakly smiled her thanks.

Soon enough, as the sunset faded into the inky black sky of night some people brought out instruments. Everyone was soon dancing, apart from Celene, who stood by her mother, tapping her feet in time to the beat. The firelight flickered off the dancers, and the musicians, skillfully weaving one tune into another. The only other people to be sitting out were Tristan and Sebille. Tristan was watching everything, and yet he was strangely detached from everything.

"Celene come dance with me." Lancelot commanded as he grabbed her waist.

"Lancelot, out of respect for my toes I think I'll decline." Celene smiled.

"He's not actually that bad of a dancer." Vanora came up.

"Fine then." Celene smiled.

The next dance was an extremely energetic one. Celene launched herself into the dance and found all her tensions and reservations running away with the music, and every step she made. She knew the dance well, and with that knowledge came a calm assurance that can only come with knowing a dance so well. One step flowed well into another, and soon someone had reached in and pulled out her hair clips, leaving her hair tumbling about her. It shone like brown gold when it caught the firelight.

To try and confuse her, and make her miss steps the knights kept on changing partners, but Celene carried on, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. She felt everything flow away from her, even to some extent herself. It was as if she was the dance and the dance were her, and as long as she kept dancing things would be fine.

The dance finally came to an end and Celene stood there panting, catching her breath. Her hair now cascaded to her waist, where it finally finished. Everyone was cheering, and Celene dimly realized they were cheering her. What she hadn't realized was that she had danced out all her emotions. What she did notice was now she had a clear head and felt that she could see ahead. She felt the strength that was inside her, and knew that whatever came her way she would be able to cope with.

"You need to dance like that more often." Tristan spoke as Celene took a sip of her wine.

In answer Celene nodded. She had loved dancing ever since she was a girl. What's more it had been said that she had a talent. One person even went as far as to say that Celene's feet made the music, not the musicians. In fact this was true to a certain extent. Sometimes when she danced she danced alone, unaccompanied by any musician. Then it seemed as if she was spinning the music from her feet, telling a tale.

Tristan knew how to read people; it was a habit he had developed over the five years since. He had changed, as had all the knights. Although it was harder to tell if his changes were for better or for worse. He had fallen into himself more and more, becoming his own companion. He suffered his brother in arms company, but the only people he really cared about were his horse and his hawk, which he had found a year ago.

"Celene you were wonderful." Galahad congratulated.

"Thank you." Celene smiled at the compliment.

"Like I said an angel." Perceval's slurred words floated up from underneath the table.

"I think someone ought to get you home." Sebille smiled.

"I'll get myself home." Perceval stood, took a few steps before collapsing down again.

"I'll see him home." Sebille stood.

"You will do no such thing without my help." Bedwyr exclaimed.

"I'll see you two later then." Celene kissed her mother's cheek as the two helped their friend out to his rooms.

Celene watched the three go out, carefully sipping her wine. Her mother was tired, that you could tell. She knew that it was probably the strain of having to carry on like everything was normal, pretending she was fine. Now though, the mask had been removed, and what a terrible sight it was. Sebille would become steadily worse and worse, before she just expired. It was such a sad thing to think about, someone who used to be so vigorous and full of life, just wasting away, incredibly tired. She would also lose her appetite that had already become apparent.

"Dance." Tristan commanded from behind her.

Celene shook her head, and went to walk away. Tristan had other ideas though. He caught her wrist, and as she spun around, a sharp retort on her lips he half-moved her, half-threw her onto the floor. She went to walk off the floor after him, with the intent to hurt him. Just then the music started up, and she was caught round the waist by Gawain. She turned to see the question in her eyes, which she just had to say yes to. It was very hard for her to refuse her friends anything.

This dance was slower than the last one, and yet required a greater level of skill to perform. The pace changed, sometimes frequently, depending on how the music was played, but the tone always stayed the same. It was a restful, mournful dance. The movements were fluid and sinuous, one blending into the next.

As Celene danced she remembered. She knew this dance so well, her mother and father had loved to teach this to her. They had loved to teach her all the dances they knew, although this one was their favourite. She could see them in her mind's eye now, dancing away closely together, oblivious to all around them apart from each other. This dance could be a dance between friends or a dance between lovers. A sigh came to her mind when she thought how she wanted a love like that of her mother and father.

Celene didn't realise she was crying until she finished the dance. Two tears were slowly making their way down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, unwilling for anyone to see her crying. She knew Tristan knew though, he always did. She shook her head to dispel her melancholy thoughts. She suddenly felt tired, all the work she had done was finally catching up with her.

She smiled and said goodnight to the men, before walking herself back to the infirmary, thinking over everything she needed to stock up on before the first winter frosts. Perhaps she would need to ask Arthur to go and buy some herbs. She was running low on certain herbs, and she was worried in case there was an epidemic like there was like last winter. The graveyard had been very busy then, mostly with children and the old. There was much mourning in winter; it carried people off with its chill fingers. Celene wondered how her mother was to fare, how she could help her to last the winter.

For Celene, life, as usual, went on at its usual pace.

Author's note: Wow, two chapters in one day. I hope you like. Any reviews welcome, and any critisms always welcome. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Well I wish I did own this, but I don't, so I have to make do with borrowing.

Chapter 4

A year later, just at the onset of winter.

Celene looked up from her book to check the cupboard. She knew she was well stocked; there were still last years herbs that hadn't been used up. The knights were out on a mission, if she wanted anything she would have to ask Jols, or wait until the knights came back. Her mother was fading fast; Celene didn't know how she would last the winter out. Although the past few days she had been feeling better, which was hopefully a good sign. There was hope for Sebille yet.

Things never have a way of turning out how you expect them to though. Celene had checked all the cupboards, and found them stocked to her satisfaction. Next she checked the beds and their straw mattresses, which were fine. What was the problem were the sheets and covers, some were ripped, and others were completely threadbare. Celene told herself she was going to have to replace some, and that she was going to have to repair others. It would keep her busy and occupied for the rest of the day, or so she thought.

A gust of wind knocked the door open, and saw Sebille standing in the door frame. Her frame, which had now lost all its meat, and was almost just skin and bone, was doubled over in a harsh coughing fit. She held out her handkerchief to her daughter, which was covered in blood. Celene jumped into action. Firstly she ushered her mother in and shut the door, pulling the bolt across to stop the wind blowing it open again.

Next Celene turned to her mother and helped her to lay down on one of the beds, settling her head higher so that she wouldn't choke. Quickly she made a tea to soothe her mother's throat, which must have been raw from all the coughing. Gently Celene poured the tea down her mother's throat. It seemed to have a calming effect, the coughing stopped and her mother fell into something resembling sleep.

A few hours later saw Sebille burning with a fever. Celene was scared for her mother, giving her teas only when it was absolutely necessary. It was also a case of, would she be delaying the inevitable. She hoped that she wasn't. Although if she was she wanted to know that her mother would survive at least long enough until Bedwyr got home, to say goodbye to his wife. Then there was the problem of her burial. The first frosts were just arriving; it would be incredibly hard to bury her in frozen ground.

Celene had to stop herself thinking about that side of things. There was always the hope that Sebille would pull through, however slim the reality was. There was always hope. Whatever hope there was left Celene was clinging to, and she told her mother as such, telling her that she couldn't die, that she had to see spring in again, that she would see spring again, if only one last time.

The day faded into the night, and yet still Celene sat by her mother's side, looking for any sign of improvement or any sign that her mother was leaving her. There was no indication either way, apart from the fever, which was raging. There were no more cures to be tried; nothing was working, apart from bathing her forehead in cool water. Nothing else mattered apart from keeping her mother alive.

There was little hope left to Celene, and yet what little there was she still entertained in her heart, quite unwilling to let the spark go out until the last possible moment. She ate only when she was brought food by Vanora, who had to stay and force her to eat it. The worry was starting to tell on Celene, who was beginning to look tired, after only one night of not sleeping. Its having to grow up well before her time, Vanora reflected.

Five days later Sebille's fever broke and she was peacefully sleeping. Celene was happy, and felt the flame of hope rekindled within her. She knew that if her mother was not to last until spring, then at least she was going to last until her husband got home, so she could say goodbye properly. It was sort of a balm to the healer, who allowed herself to breathe freely again. There was nothing now that would stop her mother from seeing her father again, unless it was Sebille herself. The idea that Sebille would choose to die was too much for Celene to entertain.

Vanora had often come and sat with Celene. With her child she helped to occupy Celene, if only for a few hours. Vanora also confided that she was expecting another, her second. She also said what annoyed her about Bors was that he had only named their son, Gillie, after she had pestered him for ages. It was light relief for Celene, and Gillie always lightened up Celene's day, with his childish babbling.

Eventually Sebille woke up, and was distressed to find herself in the infirmary, instead of in her own home. She said she wanted to die in her own home, not here. Celene soothed her by saying that she wasn't going to die, and that when she was well enough she could go back to her own house. Sebille replied whiningly that she had only come to get her daughter so that she could die in her own home. In the end Celene declared that she was despairing of her mother ever getting better, especially if she kept up this attitude.

Eventually it became clear that Sebille was not going to last incredibly long. The only hope of her saying goodbye to her husband was if the knights returned any time soon, which Celene found herself doubting. She always worried about the knights when they went out, ever since she was a little girl. The added worry over her mother was driving her almost crazy. The only things to keep her sane were Vanora and Gillie.

One morning Celene woke from her new bed of a chair, and shivered in the early morning air. She immediately jumped into action, to stop her mother from freezing. She pulled over more blankets, but it was a little too late. Sebille was already coughing badly. She managed to sit up and spit out the blood that was gathering in her mouth, but she soon collapsed back down exhausted.

Sebille was tired. She wanted to die, was ready for it. She had been ready months ago, but she had to last just that bit longer, that little bit more agony. Slowly she had lost her appetite, slowly lost her weight until she was painfully thin. It hurt to cough now; it felt as if she was bruising her very bones, which in a way she was. She had stayed alive because her daughter willed it, but now, even the strength of that will wasn't enough to keep her. She was tired, and wanted to go to sleep. If she could only stop coughing.

"I'm tired." Sebille murmured.

"Stay, just a few hours more." Celene pleaded.

"Can't, too tired. I'm sorry." Sebille moaned.

"It hurts you to talk, stay quiet." Celene commanded.

"I'm sorry, tell your father that." Sebille murmured again.

"Tell him that yourself, please stay." Celene was crying.

"I have a song for you, you know that?" Sebille asked.

"No I didn't." Celene looked slightly perplexed.

"Let me sing it to you." Sebille rasped.

I see your tears

I see you pain

Neither belong here

In this moment

Or time

Or in your lifetime

I see you torture yourself

Thinking what ifs

But please don't think

On such things

As might have beens

They will only hurt

Please no more tears

Dry your starry eyes

And look ahead

See your path

Walk it bravely

And without fear

Please be how I remember you

Smiling free and young

Please show me that smile

That graced my days

And know even when I am gone

I will always be here.

At that Sebille laid back, seemingly happy with what she had accomplished. Her coughing fits were becoming fewer and farther between, and do did her breaths, which came without a hitch for the first time in a while. She seemed to be happy, and she smiled. She held her hand out, as if to a child, and Celene took it. It was cold and yet hot to the touch. Eventually Sebille closed her eyes, and you would almost think she was sleeping.

Celene looked up at her mother. The past months had seemed to fall away, and the harshness of the cheekbones and jaw seemed softened by death. Indeed she looked how she had before, a beautiful woman. Her hair fell in gentle waves, instead of the mass that it had hung in recently. This seemed like the woman a knight should come home to, not the shell she had become. But that shell was dearly beloved by both husband and daughter, a shell that held the fiery woman only death had truly tamed.

"Mummy?" Celene asked a child's voice coming from within a woman's body.

When she got no answer she laid her head down at the side of the bed and cried. There was nothing else for her to do. She clung to her mother's hand like it was a lifeline. In a way it was. It was a memory of her mother, and how she had been in life. She had always seemed so strong, yet these last few years had revealed a different side to her mother, one which was no less dear to her daughter.

That was how Vanora found Celene, clinging to her dead mother. She shook her head, but for her it was business as usual. She sent Celene immediately to bed, saying that the poor girl hadn't had much sleep these past six days. Celene went to protest, but Vanora was just as stubborn, and said she would be of no use half dead.

Next, gently Vanora laid out Sebille. She had known the woman all her life, indeed she was as much a part of her life as Vanora was of hers. It was a kind of mutual thing between the families of knights. Although, Vanora reflected grimly, she had gotten on better with the daughter, her being closer to her age. Celene was probably the one catalyst that linked everything together, her father and his friends to reality, and her and the knights. Really if it hadn't been for Celene she never would have met the knights, and her life would have been a lot more boring.

Vanora decided to look in on Celene before she went home. The girl, bless her, was curled up around herself, in a foetal position. She hadn't even got as far as undressing herself properly; she had just managed to unlace her dress before she fell asleep on her bed. Quietly Vanora set about bringing order to Celene's unusually untidy desk. Once she had done that she laid fresh candles into the holders, the others were burnt out, and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Celene awoke the next day just as the sun was beginning to rise. She felt somewhat confused and disorientated, but then she remembered where she was and she calmed down a little. She stood up and at that moment chose to look at herself in the mirror.

What she saw shocked her. She seemed thin, and pale, with black shading underneath her eyes showing her lack of sleep. Her hair hung unbound and unbrushed. All in all she thought she looked ill. To talk about it she felt slightly ill. She was very aware of what was happening, and yet at the same time she was strangely detached.

Sorting out her appearance made her feel a little better. She changed out of her crumpled dress into another one, and brushed out her long hair before pulling it into a plait and securing it with a leather thong. There was nothing she could do about how she looked, but after she had splashed her face with water she looked a little less tired, which was good.

The kitchen staff all looked up at her with apologetic looks in their eyes. Celene was slightly annoyed at that, and snatched at some bread before she walked back to the infirmary. There she found Vanora with the undertaker and her mother was laid out. The undertaker was talking to Vanora about when her mother would be buried. This annoyed Celene, did this man know nothing? Her mother would be buried when her father came back, and only then, not a moment before. Vanora seemed to sense Celene's pensive mood and turned to her.

"She has to be buried soon, I'd say tomorrow." The undertaker finished.

"You're saying my mother has to be buried without my father here?" Celene asked, her calm voice betraying her anger.

"It has to be done before the frosts, with or without your father." The undertaker sighed, as if explaining to a child.

"My father will be back soon, and then my mother will be buried." Celene looked perplexed slightly.

"Absolutely impossible, she shall be buried tomorrow!" The undertaker exclaimed.

"Tomorrow will be fine." Vanora cut in, before steering Celene out the room.

"The arrogance of that man!" Celene exclaimed.

"Your mother has to be buried soon, your father will understand." Vanora smiled.

Celene found herself smiling back. In her almost trance like state she could believe it. She knew her father wouldn't mind, not really. She knew she was tired; perhaps all she needed to do was sleep. Yes, that was it, sleep for a long time and wake up in the spring, when everything would be better. Without realising it she was being guided by Vanora back to bed, where she instantly fell into a deep and almost restless sleep.

A few days later the knights came home. Bedwyr was slightly confused that his daughter wasn't there to greet him. He knew Sebille wouldn't be there, she would be waiting when he got home. Rather, back to his rooms in the fort. They had recently moved back there, after Sebille became worse. Looking around he saw Vanora, looking stony faced, and almost feared the worst. Almost, but not quite, he couldn't quite believe it. When he saw Vanora walking over to him though, he knew the worst had happened.

"Sebille's dead." Vanora declared quietly.

All the knights stopped to let the news sink in for a few minutes. Bedwyr just stood there, unable to believe it. His wife dead. It seemed unbelievable, and yet at the same time it wasn't wholly unexpected. Everyone knew that it had only been a matter of time, though how much time had been a different matter. No one wanted her to die, and no one was expecting her to die, it had been a long time in coming. So long in fact that it seemed as if it were never coming.

"She's been buried already, we couldn't wait." Vanora explained quietly.

Everyone nodded, they understood. It had happened before to others before. Silently they all went their separate ways. Bedwyr went back to his house, which no doubt he would want to get rid of for all the memories it held. It was an unspoken agreement that the knights would visit Celene, to offer their condolences.

As they filed in they were surprised to see Celene at the cabinet where all her herbs were, talking away to herself quite happily. She turned when all the knights came, but when she saw who it was she turned back to her work. She had seen that no one was hurt, and was glad of it. So she went back on to sorting out the herbs and taking down the ones she needed. She needed to brew up some cough mixture for someone or other; right now the name was escaping her.

Once she had finished and closed the doors she turned around to see the knights. She managed a weak smile, but it was tainted with sadness and tiredness. There were black shadows under her eyes, even though she had slept for two days straight. The strain of having to be normal was starting to take its toll on her, and it was not what she needed. She knew she was going to have to see her father at some point; he was going to take Sebille's death hard. The only Celene could do was to be there for her father.

"Celene what happened to you?" Galahad exclaimed, before he could stop himself.

"Ignore him; he doesn't know what he's saying." Lancelot elbowed Galahad as he said that.

"Its fine Galahad, I'm fine." Celene smiled a genuine smile this time.

"We heard about your mother." Arthur broke the silence that had descended.

Celene looked at him then, with shock in her eyes. They revealed a great pain, a wound that had not yet healed, and it would take a long time for it to heal, and she would need the help of her friends for her to heal. Quietly she began to sob, and pulled her hands across her face. Her shoulders were hunched over. Perceval immediately walked over and hugged her to him, his presence calming her somewhat.

Everyone was left wondering what would happen in the future, for them and their friends and family.

Author's note: I can't really say I hope you enjoyed it. But what I can say is I hope you liked it.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: As before, I only own my characters

Chapter five

One year later

A year later saw Celene preparing two different types of teas for an epidemic of coughing that had broken out recently. It wasn't as bad as other epidemics, but firstly it was inconvenient for the adults, and secondly some children and older people were too frail to survive for too long with coughing fits. Firstly she was brewing up a linden and licorice tea, she was brewing a lot of that, as there were also problems with people's breathing, and this tea helped with that. For others, like the pregnant women, who couldn't take it she was brewing up another batch of thyme, hyssop and sage tea. When she had finished she poured each into cups and tasted them. Grimacing a little she walked through into the kitchens and got a little honey for each.

Once she had sweetened each of them she set about seeing to making another batch, and giving the batches she had made to the people who had managed to come to get them. For those who were unable to come all that often she gave instructions on how to make the teas and a bunch of ingredients that she promised she would replenish when they ran out.

The knights all filed in and Celene smiled up at them. There were no more people as of yet, so she had a few spare moments to sit down and collect her thoughts. She collapsed onto one of the beds and sighed heavily as she did so, it was good to get off her feet and sit for a while, if only it was for a short while. She brushed a few strands of flyaway hair from her face while she collected her thoughts and started counting off.

"That batch has to be taken to the kitchens, and I need to get some to Jols…" Celene trailed off when she realized all the knights were looking at her.

"Celene, when will you stop talking to yourself?" Lancelot asked.

"When there are no more people to be healed, that's when." Celene retorted.

"That put you in your place." Perceval smiled as he came in, before breaking into a coughing fit.

"Really I can't have five minutes peace can I?" Celene asked, fetching some of her linden and licorice tea.

"Yes you can, and you will do, on your birthday." Gawain smiled.

"Oh gods, I totally forgot! My birthday" Celene suddenly spun around with Perceval's tea, which she handed to him.

"Thank you, and yes your birthday is next week." Perceval smiled at the look on Celene's face.

"What present do you want from us?" Galahad asked.

"My father to be happy." Celene sighed wistfully.

All the knights drew in a breath at this. Bedwyr, since his wife's death had been insufferable. He had taken the loss very hard, and as a result had never really gotten over it. He sat around being miserable, unless he was fighting, which is when he was a little more like himself. Only then though, and only for a sort while, before he lapsed back into his usual morose self. Celene hadn't quite gotten over her mother's death, but she was well on the way, with help from her friends. Bedwyr on the other hand, had completely alienated himself, accepting no help from anyone.

Even his own daughter was suffering from this treatment, which everyone was thinking was unfair. The knights were almost at breaking point with the limits of their patience. Celene on the other hand was silently resigned to her father's mood. She knew how much he had suffered in losing his soul-mate, and yet he was slowly killing himself by torturing himself. It was painful for her to see her father like this, and her wish was a simple one for her, and yet incredibly hard for everyone else.

"Don't be silly, I was only joking. I'm sure you'll think of something lovely." Celene smiled, kissing Galahad on the cheek before ruffling his hair.

"I don't think you were being silly." Tristan spoke from the shadows.

"It's an impossible wish." Celene spoke quietly with all her resigned sadness in her voice.

"Be that as it may, someone has to help him now." Perceval declared.

"Its only been a year, leave him alone." Celene declared.

"Look at you, you got over it." Galahad argued.

"Please leave him alone, he's done nothing." Celene pleaded.

"Precisely, he's done nothing." Perceval declared hotly.

"If you want to do something you alone have to do it Perceval, you're his friend. The rest of you, I know you're worried about me, and hate my father for what he's doing, but he's changed, and he needs friends. The best we can do is let Perceval talk to him." Celene finally declared.

"Celene isn't your tea ready." Dagonet pointed.

"How could I forget?" Celene exclaimed jumping up.

The knights were left sitting around the infirmary discussing while Celene went down to the kitchens, with the tea and recipes, she was going to try and get the teas made in the kitchens to free her up for those who were going to be worst affected. When that was done, and the kitchen maids had agreed Celene took a single cup down to Jols in the stable, who couldn't have been more grateful.

"It's been really terrible. A few of the horses have colic, others lame, and me with this cough." Jols sounded like he was trying not to moan.

"I'll see about Arthur getting you more help in the stables, I know he's complaining about how few people have jobs around the fort now." Celene silently ran an inventory.

"Celene, just stop, you need to rest." Jols held up a hand.

"What do you mean, I'm fine?" Celene asked.

"No you're not." Jols muttered as Celene walked.

Celene walked back to the infirmary slowly at a more sedate pace. She didn't know what it was, but she was feeling melancholy. She supposed it must be the time of year, winter made everyone depressed, and then it was the time of year people most often died. Although Celene knew really what was upsetting her. The fact that her father felt that he was alone in his grief. What he was also doing was ignoring his daughter, and by doing that he made her feel alone, even more alone than she should really be.

She was a healer, and everyone looked to her to be strong, to heal and to help them through their most difficult times. When it came to her needing a father figure, or a shoulder to cry on, she couldn't have one. The moment she entered a room in which her father was he made a point of avoiding her. It cut her deeply than any time she didn't manage to save anyone. It left her with a feeling of inadequacy most times. Although with her father it gave her the feeling that she just wasn't good enough.

Celene broke into a run, trying to get away from all her thoughts. They were tormenting her, did every day and every night. The nights were the worst though. During the day she could immerse herself in work and her life. At night she was alone, painfully so. So she worked even harder to push the thoughts out of her head. It was a never ending cycle, and it was starting to tell.

When she managed to slow herself down Celene looked around her. She realized she had run out of the fort and was now deep in the forest. Her breath coming in short gasps she sank to her knees, feeling the wet earth beneath her legs. She dug her hands in desperately, trying to find some relief. She began to sob; she wanted peace from all the voices. She wanted peace from it all. She just didn't want to hurt anymore. She wanted everything to be better.

After a while her sobs quietened. Cradling her hands against her breast she looked down at the ground. She sat there like that, with her head bowed, not moving. She didn't know what to do anymore. Everything used to be so easy about her life, and now everything was so complicated. Everyone was looking to her to be strong, and yet she didn't want to be.

That was how Perceval found her a few moments later. He looked at the way Celene looked beaten and defeated and found himself wanting to help her. This was nothing like the outgoing, happy go lucky girl she always used to be. She had always had a smile for everyone. Now she hardly ever smiled, and her eyes held a sadness that never should have been there. There was also a heavy weight on her shoulders, she was quick to get help for Jols, and yet she didn't realize when she needed help herself. You could feel your heart breaking for this girl, and all that she'd gone through.

Perceval stepped into the clearing, careful not to startle Celene. She looked up at him, a silent pleading in her eyes for it all to end. She flew into his arms, hugging him as if he was her father. In a way she was a father figure for her, being with her far more than her real father was these days. Perceval hugged her back after a few moments, he wasn't sure how to react with crying women, none of the knights really were.

After a while Celene pulled away, blushing. She knew, he realized, that none of the knights liked dealing with weeping women, especially as they were the ones who usually caused the crying. He realized that Bedwyr was always the one to deal with the tantrums, him being a husband and father. Now though he couldn't care much less, and it was down to the other knights now to pick up the pieces they didn't even know there was there.

Gently now, Perceval began to coax Celene back to the fort, not an easy feat by any means. She eventually ended up following. Leading her into the infirmary the knights were all sitting around, all looking a little worried. Celene ran off into her room to try and see if she could sort out her appearance. Gawain went to follow her, but Perceval shook his head, she would come out when she was good and ready.

A few moments later Celene emerged in a clean dress. Her hands had been cleaned and her hair was brushed pack into a plait. Her eyes were no longer red rimmed, and yet still held all the pain of earlier. She sank down into a chair and sat with her hands folded in her lap, gazing at them. After a while she looked up at the knights and smiled weakly.

"I guess I should get back to work." Celene sighed.

"Not until you tell us what the bloody hell's goin' on here." Bors said, pushing her back down.

"What is there to tell?" Celene asked.

"You're asking us that? Take a look at yourself. You're working yourself into the ground and you're hardly sleeping. Then tell us what's wrong." Gawain exclaimed.

"You lot, you're enough to scare even the emperor of Rome." Vanora chose that moment to make her presence known.

"She needs to talk." Tristan shrugged.

"And she will do, just not to you lot, and you're definitely not going to give her the third degree." Vanora shooed the knights out.

"Thank you." Celene said simply when all the knights were gone.

"Right now, you sit there and tell me just what's eating you." Vanora ordered.

"I can't handle it Van, I just can't." Celene sobbed.

"Can't handle what?" Vanora asked.

"Everything." Celene declared dramatically.

"Surely it's not that bad?" Vanora asked.

"It probably isn't but it feels like it is. I mean everyone's always quick to blame the healer when someone dies, and yet they don't know how hard I try to keep everyone alive, and sometimes I can't do it. I just can't." Celene bowed her head.

"Who's been blaming you?" Vanora asked.

"No one, but sometimes, like with my mother, even when I know that there's nothing to be done, I find myself wondering what else it was I could have done. And then the voices start telling you that there was something more you could do, even if you couldn't and you find yourself working and working trying not to listen, and yet the more you don't listen the louder they sound. Make them stop, make them stop." Celene begged, sobbing hard now.

"I'm not the one who can make them stop." Vanora declared quietly, "You have to do it, not alone, but ultimately you have to be the one to do it."

"Was it really my fault Van?" Celene asked.

"No it bloody well wasn't. And don't let that sod of a father tell you otherwise." Celene gasped, but Vanora continued, softer now, "And I'll tell you one thing that your mother told me one day. I asked why she always seemed so distant and so reserved with her feelings. What I noticed, what everyone noticed was that she never cried when she lost anyone. I asked her if she didn't care, and of course your mum said she did care. She was one of the most caring people in the world your mum. And yet she said that every healer has to deal with death every day, and they need to get on with it. Even if they're hurt or pained by death, they manage to keep it to themselves. I know she never got to teach you that, you were much too young." Vanora finished.

"I wish she were here now." Celene sobbed.

"Don't we all. She isn't though, and it's up to us to carry on." Vanora spoke quietly.

"Who am I?" Celene asked suddenly.

"You're Celene, our healer, and the strongest girl I know." Vanora smiled.

"How can you think me so strong?" Celene asked sadly.

"Because you are. You had the strength to go on when no one else would have." Vanora declared.

"I'm sorry this year's been so hard for me." Celene sighed.

"Time heals everything." Vanora declared sagely, before adding, "Right well I better be off and try and get some more of your tea down the bairn's throats." Vanora sighed.

"Oh no need." Celene said jumping up and handing Vanora a small linen bag.

"What's this?" Vanora asked, looking inside.

"Just some licorice for the kids. They like it I've given it to others, well they should do, but I don't know. Just try it. If they don't like it try dipping them in honey that always works for me." Celene smiled brightly.

"I'll try it then, thanks." Vanora smiled before leaving the room.

Celene wiped her eyes before smiling. For once in a long while the voices weren't tormenting her. Nodding to herself firmly she looked out in the yard where the knights were all standing around. All of them were coughing. Smiling and shaking her head Celene widened the infirmary door and all the knights trooped in, all of them looking sheepish. They all went back to where they had been sitting only a few minutes before.

Looking thoughtful for a few moments Celene walked over to her cupboard and opened it up. Taking out licorice, the same as she had given Vanora, she walked over to a honey pot she had put on the side. Dipping the licorice in honey she quickly shoved it into Tristan's mouth before he could protest. Minutes later, all the knights, apart from Galahad, had taken it. Galahad was being pigheaded and stubbornly refusing.

"Come on, it's not that bad." Celene coaxed.

"I'm fine." Galahad tried to cover a cough.

"Please, won't you just take it?" Celene asked, batting her eyelids sweetly.

"No." Galahad declared stubbornly.

"Please just for me?" Celene asked again, just as sweetly as before.

"Just take it boy and be done with it." Perceval declared.

"I won't take it and that's final." Galahad huffed, folding his arms and turning his head away.

"He's not a boy, he's a baby." Tristan taunted Galahad.

"I am not." Galahad pouted.

"And he's a girl." Lancelot added.

"Won't even take his medicine like a good little boy." Bors joined in.

"Don't you mean girl." Lancelot corrected.

"You're all mean." Galahad declared.

"Aw, poor little baby." Gawain mock sympathized.

The taunting went on like this for a little while. All the time Galahad was trying to ignore it, but with the persistency of the knights you could tell it was going to be hard. Eventually Galahad began to crumble bit by bit, as much broken down with Celene's pleading as with the knights teasing. Eventually Galahad grabbed the licorice out of Celene's hand and quickly placed it in his mouth.

"There we are, wasn't so bad was it?" Celene asked friendly.

"I suppose not." Galahad scowled.

"Aw bless him." Perceval joked.

"Now now all of you stop it." Celene admonished.

"So what did you talk to Van about?" Bors asked.

"You probably already know." Celene sighed.

"Don't you all have something else to do?" Perceval asked suddenly asked.

At that all the knights filed out, all going off to resume the jobs they had been doing before they had found out. They were all rather hopeful that making her talk was going to help Celene; they all knew she needed it. Perceval stood up and smiled down at the little girl who he had known since she was born. Something about her had changed, you could tell that much already.

"I'm off to see your father then." Perceval sighed,

"Good luck and I do hope you get through to him." Celene smiled.

"He needs help." Celene nodded.

"And you're best suited to give it to him." Celene answered sagely.

"Stop sounding so old lass!" Perceval exclaimed.

"Off with you old man." Celene joked back.

"I shall see you later my fair lady." Perceval bowed as he walked off.

Perceval walked around the fort enjoying the afternoon. He was also looking for Bedwyr, although he had an idea where he was going to find him. Walking into the training ground he saw his old friend collapsed on the bench. He walked over and sat down next to his friend, who swore. Perceval smiled apologetically before settling back to watch a few of the other knights fight.

"Whaddya want?" Bedwyr asked.  
"Are you drunk?" Perceval asked.

"Of course not." Bedwyr shook his head.

"How are things?" Perceval asked.

"What do you care?" Bedwyr asked.

"I care because I'm your friend." Perceval answered.

"If you were my friend you would leave me alone." Bedwyr grunted.

"That's not what you need." Perceval answered.

"What do I need?" Bedwyr asked.

"A reality check." Perceval muttered, loud enough for Bedwyr to hear.

"What do you mean?" Bedwyr demanded angrily.

"You hurt those who love you, who try and help you." Perceval answered coolly.

"The only one I loved left me!" Bedwyr stood up.

"You do your daughter no credit." Perceval stood up now, slightly annoyed.

"My daughter let her mother die." Bedwyr snapped.

"Do you think that of your daughter, do you think she would do that?" Perceval really was angry now.

"Yes I would." Bedwyr shouted.

"Then you're a damned fool. Celene loved her mother, and she loves you, you just refuse to see it." Perceval finally yelled back.

Bedwyr punched Perceval instead of answering. Everyone began to gather around as Perceval stood up. Bedwyr wanted a fight, had been spoiling for one, and now he had started one. Perceval went to try and walk away, but his one time friend pulled him back before hitting him again. In the end the two ended up wrestling in the dirt, neither one able to get dominance over the other.

The Romans gathered around, all glad to see the Sarmatians acting like the barbarians they were thought to be. The circle that had been formed excluded the knights, who knew what was going on, and yet had no time to stop it. Galahad bit his lip in a dilemma. At a nod from Tristan he ran off to the infirmary.

As he skidded to a halt he saw Celene already outside the infirmary. She had been disturbed by the racket that she had a funny feeling came down from the practice courts, and her curiosity had been piqued. She had put a white apron on over her dress, her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and her hair was pulled into a bun, from which pieces of hair were flying away. As soon as she saw the look on Galahad's face she untied her apron before putting it away.

"Who is it?" She asked as she came out.

"Your father and Perceval." Galahad answered.

Celene just shook her head before running off to the practice courts, the knight in hot pursuit. By the time she got there the pair was wrestling on the floor, a dust cloud flying in the air. The Romans were standing around and jeering, putting bets on who would win. The knights were trying to break the fight up, but so far weren't being very successful. The pair stood up and Celene walked right in front of the pair, stopping them from fighting.

Lancelot felt a sudden tinge of panic as Celene walked into the middle of the fight. For some reason he could tell that everyone felt the same. Even Tristan flinched as Bedwyr raised a fist. Although the way Celene stood there calmly, ready to take whatever came her way, made him drop his fist. She seemed to nod at her father, before turning to Perceval, assessing his injuries.

Once she had assured herself there were no worse injuries on either of them than bruises, she looked to both of their eyes. Perceval looked away ashamed, and Celene turned to her father, anger burning in her eyes. He had the sense to look away ashamed. The Romans had all disappeared as soon as Celene had appeared, they knew the show was over, and had slunk back to their work.

"What is the meaning of this? Are we to prove to the Romans that we are the warring barbarians they think us?" Celene demanded, turning from her father to his friend and back again.

"I don't want to hear it." She said, holding her hand up as Percival went to talk, "I want both of you to go to the infirmary now. No arguments." Celene ordered.

Both of the knights, even though they were so superior to Celene in years knew better than to brook an argument with her. She was like her mother in the respect that she would tolerate no one intruding too much on her turf, she would appreciate help when she felt she needed it, but otherwise she would growl and yip. She was the undisputed healer in the fort, even Dagonet would defer to her, even though he still was senior to her in years.

She seated both Percival and her father as far away from each other as she dared without sending another to a different room. She looked at both of them and determined that there would be nothing worse than a few bruises. She was thankful there was going to be no black eyes, although she did have to re-set Percival's nose, accompanied by much bellowing on his part.

She sent both the knights to their rooms with the orders that they were not to go within a few metres of each other until they could talk to each other civilly and without any yelling, mumbling or grumbling. She knew both her father and his friend's pride would be hurt, having to abide by the rules of a much younger woman, her rule being enforced by the other much younger knights and the commander. She knew that the two would be reconciled to each other, if just to make sure that they were left for a few moments peace.

Celene hoped that today was the beginning of a new chapter in her life. She resolved to put her sorrows behind her well and truly, so that she could now fully focus on helping those that most needed help, and giving aid to those that most needed aid. She knew then that, yes, there would be times ahead for weeping, and yet there would also be times for laughter and love. Sighing contentedly to herself Celene let herself drift off into daydreams of the future.

Author's note: I know it's been a while, but here we are, a new chapter. This one took me ages to write, but I hope you all enjoy, because then it will have been worth the effort of me writing and fretting and fighting a writer's block for.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: As before.

Chapter 6

A few days later saw the knights riding out on a mission. They were to escort a trail of goods back to the fort, and as such would have to wait in the port of Dover for a few days before the caravan would be ready to travel. It was an easy job for the knights, one that they relished, especially as they so often received missions which resulted in them staying out in the cold and wet for weeks on end. This travel had the promise of a warm bed at either end, although the weather throughout the long trek did not seem so promising.

What it did mean though, was that they would be missing Celene's birthday. Not for once was a few of them glad of the gap, as they would be able to have presents. Celene herself had never had big birthdays, instead preferring to have family and friends for a meal, a drink and such other things as occasions like that brought. The meal had been postponed until the knights came back full of new stories to tell and share of a cup of ale, or in the case of more than a few, a fair few cups of ale.

For Celene it would be a few weeks of peace. The coughing fit had died down as soon as it came, due in no small part to her tender care of everyone. So she had taken to helping Vanora with the children and sitting quietly in the evenings sharing a cup of mulled wine with her older friend. They would often discuss things whilst picking over some small job or other, at the moment Celene was mostly occupied with sewing, as she was repairing the blankets and sheets of the infirmary.

Soon she would go and get some wool before carding, spinning and weaving it into blankets to replace some of the ones in the infirmary. She would also be making or buying some gifts for the winter solstice, and in Arthur's case Christmas. The small amount she earned as healer she scrimped and saved for such seasons as this one. She would also much prefer to save for a few more comforts in the winter months, than spend it all on keeping up with the fashions.

Like true women Vanora and Celene did tend to lean towards idle gossip. They would talk about everything and nothing, the weather, the fashions, the children and the knights. They even came onto the subject of sweethearts a few times, which made Celene blush under Vanora's gentle teasing that such a girl as herself should have been no stranger to handsome men courting her and asking her for her hand. It was with many blushes that Celene admitted she had been courted many a time, but never had she loved one enough to let them ask for her hand.

And still the days passed and soon Celene was onto carding the wool. The work even bled into her daytime, so engrossed was she in it, and with no other occupation on her mind she saw fit to get it sorted out now. So she sat around with Vanora's children running around her feet. Soon enough she settled down to the spinning and even that job drew to a close. Then Celene found herself at a slight loose end. She knew the knights were due home soon and settled down to wait, but patience had never been one of her strong suits.

So she took to roaming out on walks. These ones she had long enjoyed and knew that people would object to her going out alone on her own, with the threat of woads and everything. She found nothing though on her walks, most of which were cut brutally short by the quickly advancing winter weather. All too soon it would be time to find work or employ around the place which you lived or were employed in, fenced in by the harsh winter weather.

Soon enough the call of "knights" was heard ringing out in every corner of the fort. Celene looked up from the small bit of sewing that she had decided to do, after checking the latest batch of laundry for the infirmary and seeing how much of it needed repairing. She still retained her decorum as she placed down the sheet and stood. Only once she had thrown her cloak on did she allow herself to run to the courtyard where her father and the other knights were just arriving.

"Father. It's so good to see you home safely." Celene embraced her father warmly. "It's good to be home." Bedwyr embraced his daughter back with all the fervour he had before his wife's death.  
"And what has been keeping our little firefly busy since we have gone?" Perceval swept down for a hug and Celene planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Woman's work, nothing that would interest such great knights as yourselves." Celene answered tartly, a small smile on her face. "You should have more respect for your elders." Percival pretended to be angry and faked a swipe at Celene's head. "Good Sir Knight, protect from the evil of my wicked uncle." Celene cried playfully hiding behind Gawain.  
"I shall fight till the death to protect your honour fair lady, never fear." Gawain answered, earning a snort from Lancelot.  
"I am sure it is I whose help you should be soliciting fair maiden, I am the better fighter." Lancelot bowed over Celene's hand.  
"I see that I shall have to fight two knaves to punish my wicked niece." Percival stepped forward, a smile on his face.  
"Enough, enough uncle. I hope you could spare me my punishment?" Celene asked jokingly. "Well forsooth the fair lady has declared herself beaten…" Percival pretended to think. "I have not indeed uncle; I have just declared a truce for now." Celene replied offended. "I shall think of a fair punishment for my even fairer niece." Percival bowed.  
"And I shall be fair on my uncle and shall await his punishment." Celene curtsied, whilst smiling. "Come along then dearest, your late birthday awaits." Bedwyr began to lead his daughter, with the knights in tow. "Father, why on earth would my birthday involve me spending time in the stables?" Celene queried as she recognised the route.  
"All shall be revealed." Bedwyr answered cryptically.

And all was revealed as a gentle chestnut brown horse put its head over the stall which had recently been empty since Celene's last horse had died. The horse whickered gently as Celene stepped forward, an apple held out that had been placed in her hand by her father. As she held the horse out the horse gently reached and plucked the apple from where it rested. Celene then reached out a hand and the horse allowed her to rub its nose.

"It's beautiful." Celene turned to her father, a small smile on her face. "Well she's yours to name." Bedwyr smiled at his daughter's reaction.  
"I'll name her… Kalita." Celene answered after a few moments. "Well the new tack is my present to my niece, although I cannot see why such a wicked woman as she deserves such a present." Perceval tried to look serious, until Celene flew into his arms and gave him a large kiss on the cheek.  
"I love it, and I love Kalita." Celene turned to her father and gave him a large hug.

Bedwyr smiled down at his daughter. What he saw now he hadn't seen throughout all his blackest months, that Celene was beautiful. No she was not one of those perfectly beautiful women who were sung about in legends; something about her seemed too real, too human for her to be that beautiful. But still she had a beautiful heart, and would never leave someone if they were in need and she could use everything she had to stop their suffering.

"Come on father, everyone's determined to give me a toast." Celene pulled at her father's hand.  
"I'll be along in a minute love, you go on ahead, and you don't want to waste your whole life waiting for someone as old as me." Bedwyr waved off his daughter. Percival stayed behind, looking quizzically at his old friend.  
"What the matter old friend?" Percival asked.  
"I'm going to talk to someone." Bedwyr walked off in the direction of the cemetery.

Percival looked after his friend and sighed heavily. He knew who his friend was going to talk to, and he hoped that finally Bedwyr would find some peace. He had begun to lay the past behind him, and would have to carry on, with the help of all the younger knights and especially his daughter. Percival noted that Celene had learnt a lot about loss, and she had come out of it all, no less harmed by it than when she had entered it. Now she could be considered a woman, and she knew of women's troubles, to bear the deaths of their loved ones, and mourn them forever.

Celene meanwhile sat in the tavern, laughing at the antics of the knights. They were her family, and had always been. She had grown up around the fort, in the shadow of her father, and now she was in the shadow of the great knights of her generation. She had still grown strong and flourished; she saw no reason to be cowed by her peers. Instead she laughed and joked alongside them, as much a figure of the fort as they were.

Percival entered the tavern and smiled down at the woman he considered to be a niece as she sat and watched as Galahad engaged Gawain in a knife throwing contest, just as a joke. Celene looked to her uncle in despair, perhaps what she knew about the knights better than they did, was that they would always turn something into a competition. Growing up as she did had taught her that. Percival just shrugged before getting a glass of ale and joining her.

"Who's gonna win?" Percival asked Celene.  
"I don't know. Gawain has the more experience, but Galahad has been practising since the last time." Celene pondered watching the contest. "I put my money on Gawain." Lancelot sauntered across to press another drink into Celene's hand. "I'm going to say Galahad then." Celene smiled as she accepted the drink.  
"What does the winner get?" Lancelot enquired slyly.  
"If you win, dear sir I will get you a drink." Celene added, "Although you're hardly likely to win"  
"What cheek from one so young." Lancelot exclaimed pretending to be hurt. "Shut up and watch." Celene hissed.

Lancelot stood next to Celene, sitting easily on the edge of the table. It soon became clear that Gawain was going to be the winner, and Lancelot was beginning to look forward to his drink. Turning to Celene he saw her smiling, the queer girl! She must have known she was going to loose at some point, that was just going to be sooner rather than later. She seemed not to know it, and it would be so impolite of him to point out to a lady that she was going to loose.

Just as Lancelot thought he had won Tristan took his knife and aimed, winning the game easily with a single throw. Celene's laughter could be heard ringing out as she looked at the incredulous look on Lancelot's face. She had known that was going to happen, it always did when someone was throwing knives and Tristan was around. The winner of the bout had now returned to his quiet corner, silently eating his apple whilst watching what was going on around him.

Just as Bedwyr had joined the party the clatter of hooves could be heard ringing from the courtyard. This excited more than a little curiosity, but no one was willing to leave the company to find out what it was. They knew they would soon find out, Arthur was due to join the party at any moment, and then he would bring news. No one else would think of talking to, what they considered to be, Sarmatian dogs.

Arthur soon entered, and his face was grave, a frown was present on his features. Celene, Bedwyr and Percival were the first to notice this, as they were the most sober. Celene stood a concerned look on her face. This turned to one of alarm as someone else entered behind Arthur. She turned and placed her drink on the table, all thoughts of merriment forgotten for the moment. Soon enough the other knights picked up and soon all were clustered around Arthur, waiting for news.

"Men, this is Kay. He and the rest of his knights were sent to aid us here, but they got into a little trouble on the way." Arthur explained.  
"Geraint was injured severely." The man introduced as Kay answered.  
"I don't need to know his name just that he's wounded." Celene answered, pausing to kiss both her father and Percival on the cheek before running off in the direction of the infirmary.

As she skidded into the long room she saw a group of men sitting around on the beds. All were wounded, some to more degrees of severity than the others. Lying on the bed nearest her was a man who looked as pale as death. His hand was holding on to a piece of cloth which when Celene lifted she discovered was bleeding and already showed the beginnings of becoming infected.

The stench and sight of the wound sent Celene roiling. She prided herself on being able to take whatever came her way, and she normally managed it. What she had just seen shocked even her; she did have some sensibilities as a woman, although she often had to quash them in her work. Now though, for a while she was content with them as they allowed her to get a few moments of respite before she got back to work.

Whilst she was waiting to collect her nerve she looked to the man lying on the bed. He was young and had pale blonde hair which fell around his face. His fringe flopped over a pair of wary blue eyes, which were watching Celene's every move, even as she slipped into her worker's white apron and tied it behind her. He watched her as she performed the same office for her hair, securing it behind her. He looked to her as if to say that he would not be treated by a woman.

"Not her, where's the healer?" Geraint managed to gasp.  
"You're looking at her, and if you want to stay alive I suggest you let me do my job." Celene said, pulling away the flimsy dressing perhaps a bit more forcefully than was necessary, which resulted in Geraint flinching away.  
"Women have no place…" Geraint grumbled through gritted teeth. "Well can I at least clean and cauterise this wound, before stitching it and adding a salve which will help it clear?" Celene asked angrily.  
"He's not used to a…woman being a healer." Another one of the men spoke up.  
"Well he'll have to get used to it." Celene answered.  
"I don't see why he should have to, a woman's place in the home." The same man replied.  
"Oh indeed is it? And may I say this is my home, so I am in exactly the right place, and now I suggest you can go and get Dagonet, go down and ask for him in the tavern and tell him I need his help." Celene ordered.  
"Do it yourself." The man tossed back.  
"Mordred." Kay warned. "I can't go I'm busy, and I want you out of the way whilst I do my work. And once you've fetched Dagonet you do not set foot in this room again ever. Do I make myself clear?" Celene asked.  
"Crystal. And anyway I don't see why I should have been sent here, to where women are left to do a man's work." Mordred walked out with a derogatory sniff.

Celene took a few deep calming breaths before going about her work. She did it quickly and efficiently, trying to cause the least pain to the patient lying under her patient hands. What soon became apparent to all the men, even those who had been sceptical about her, was that she really did care for anyone who was injured, whether they doubted her skills or not. Soon enough Dagonet came in and tended to those with minor wounds, but some hardly noticed, so entranced were they in watching Celene.

Once she had finished she turned away from the sick man, who had fallen asleep under her gently hands. She smiled and stroked his forehead, and was pleased to see there was no sign of a fever. Satisfied she turned back again to the other knights who were in the room. Nodding to herself she counted all of them up, and was glad to see that the one called Mordred had not reappeared.

"Well gentlemen, I suggest you all go down to the tavern and have a drink," Celene suggested.  
"You're supposed to be celebrating your birthday," Dagonet admonished as the last new man filed out. "Work comes before play. And besides, why would I want to celebrate getting yet another year older?" Celene asked a small smile on her face. "You're only twenty one," Dagonet admonished gently.  
"There's no need to remind me, I am well aware of how old I am," Celene sighed as she pushed Dagonet out the door, "Raise a toast for me if you must, but I will stay with Geraint"  
"I see your mind is made up," Dagonet said as he walked out the door.  
"It is, but there's really no need for you to worry, I'll be fine," Celene shut the door to the infirmary.

Sighing she turned back to her patient. Satisfied he was still sleeping soundly she lit a few lamps, in case he should wake up. Feeling tired Celene settled down in one of the pallets, so she would be near Geraint if he should wake. As soon as her head touched the pillow she felt her eyes drooping, and she fell into the black abyss of sleep.

Author's note: Well here we are. I hope you have all enjoyed, and I would like to take the time to thank everyone who both reads and reviews; it does mean a lot to me. 


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